The wind howled as the saber came cras.h.i.+ng down on Amon in a violent strike. Amon's pupils constricted as he looked at the incoming attack. It certainly contained absurd power and speed, but… it was also absurdly straightforward. It was a simple downward slash, nothing more.

Amon slightly bent his knee to stabilize his stance. He held the glowing stick with both hands and positioned it above his head, slightly tilted down over his right shoulder. Amon took a deep breath preparing himself for the impact that was to come.

'Bak!'

The saber hit the stick with a horrifying strength. Amon felt his hands numbing and the bones in his body creaking as he forcefully tilted the stick even more to the right. The saber slid down the stick and the strike pa.s.sed by Amon, hitting the floor by his side.

'Crack!'

The saber sunk deeply on the ground, creating a web of cracks around it. The red-haired youth seemed somewhat surprised at how his attack had been deflected, but he had no chance to dwell on the thought as a glowing stick was coming at his head.

He forcefully pulled the saber out of the floor, ripping out huge chunks of stone with it as he retreated. A cloud of dust rose from the ground as he looked at Amon coldly, a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

Amon was fighting with all that he had against the absurd pain in his body as he looked at the youth and sneered. He took a breath and managed to say with a calm voice, "I expected more."

Amon had been right. That youth was incredibly arrogant. John Lucan was arrogant, but he knew how to evaluate his opponents and didn't let it cloud his judgement. Cecilia was also arrogant, but her fighting style relied on using cunning and precise moves, so she would only be caught off-guard when she lost her temper.

The youth in front of Amon, on the other hand, was probably used to crus.h.i.+ng all opposition with brute strength. He finished his battles fast and he used his power to overcome all of the schemes from his opponents. In other words, he was so strong he had no need to scheme his way to victory.

That did not mean he was dumb. His straightforward style was predictable, but also incredibly efficient. A simple style meant a faster training. As a result, his fighting style was actually more refined and polished than the others. The youth's speed and power would make up for any deficiencies in it.

However, he was very much like Cecilia on one point. Amon would make him lose his temper, what would lead to a mistake, which would lead to a landslide of mistakes if Amon made use of it. He had learned the hard way in the Warrior Hall that fighting with the wrong mindset would bring nothing but failure.

The youth knitted his brows at Amon's mocking, but said nothing. He had a cold look on his face. He a.s.sume a stance and slowly approached Amon. He took light steps as he started circling around Amon, trying to look for a chance, like a hunter waiting for an opportunity.

He didn't know in how much pain Amon was just from deflecting his strike. If he knew, he would be sending a barrage of attacks that would certainly eliminate Amon. He being this careful meant he had bought Amon's bluff, giving Amon time to recover and think on his next move.

If for even a second Amon turned pa.s.sive in this battle, it would be his loss. He would need to lead the youth by the nose until he managed to create an opening he could make use of. This would have to be a short fight, or Amon would surely lose.

"Two more exchanges." He though, thinking of a plan.

Amon's eyes were cold as he looked at the youth, but he was s.h.i.+vering inwardly. One mistake on is part and the fight would be lost. He took a step forward with his right foot, and the youth's eyes glistened.

He shot towards Amon sending a horizontal strike at his exposed left side. Amon took one step back and the saber hit the air, sending a huge blast of wind to Amon's face, making his ashen hair whip about.

The saber did not stop after it missed Amon, leaving the youth vulnerable. The youth's face fell as Amon's stick came whistling through the air at his head. He hurriedly twisted his body and retreated, avoiding Amon's strike.

The youth knitted his brows looking at Amon, clearly annoyed. Amon could see impatience and confusion hidden deep in the coldness of his eyes. The first exchange was over, now Amon would finish the fight.

He shot towards the youth with a ferocious look on his golden eyes. Amon jumped as he aimed his stick at the youth's head, putting his all in the strike.

'Brak!'

The youth blocked the strike with his saber, with one hand in the handle and the other supporting the blade. The floor started cracking at his feet. Amon might be weaker than he was, but that didn't mean he was not incredibly strong.

Amon's feet touched the ground and he brought his face closer to the youth's as he forced his strike in. "Truly a waste of my time."

One move. It was all Amon needed. A single mistake. The youth's eyes flashed with rage as the muscles in his arm bulged. Then, he forcefully pushed his saber to the side, trying to break Amon's stance.

Amon couldn't help but give a wry smile as he took a step back. He had been on the receiving end of such a cheap move before. He knew how frustrating it was. The saber made the air howl as it swung violently at nothing. Amon took a step forward with the stick in hand.

The youth looked dumbstruck as he realized his mistake. His stance was a mess and he wouldn't be able to block the incoming strike. He could only look resentfully as that glowing stick descended on his head on the exact moment he gave the opening.

'Crack!'

He shouldn't have lost that fight. In truth, he wouldn't have if Amon hadn't suffered with a certain sword puppet on a specific day in the Warrior Hall. Because Amon knew exactly when and how the opening would present itself, and he was prepared to make use of it.

All that he really needed to do was to make the red-haired youth lose his temper for just a moment. Every mistake in battle was potentially fatal. Every opening given was a moment between life and death.

That is why fights between experienced warriors could either be dragged out or end in seconds. All they needed was a single opening to a.s.sure victory. The moment it appeared, the fight would end. The amount of time it took for a mistake to be made was the duration of the fight, there was no avoiding it.

Experience was incredibly important because of that. It allowed one to minimize mistakes and have an innumerable amount of strategies to create openings for his own use.

Amon gave a long sigh as the youth was dragged away by the light. He had won, but he didn't feel satisfied. This fight somehow lacked the thrill of his fight with John and Cecilia. His opponent was far above him in terms of strength, but he also had a fatal weakness in his pride.

Amon couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. It was a fight bound to end prematurely, because either he would be crushed by the youth, or he would make use of that obvious flaw to obtain victory. It felt somewhat dull.

He slowly descended from the platform in deep thought. A clear expression of dissatisfaction was on his face as he walked to the waiting hall, his body still a bit numb.

"Real fights are to the death, Amon." Lya's voice echoed in his ears as she seemed to understand his thoughts.

"You should learn to enjoy every victory, no matter how dull they might have been." Her voice was somewhat wistful, somewhat regretful. "Because every fight you win is a day more you live."